


Conflicts of Interest

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Lawyer!Bill AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-18 06:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1418720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill Adama always wanted to be a lawyer like his father. Saul Tigh was granted admission to the Colonial Fleet Academy, allowing him to fulfill his dream of becoming a career officer. Now, forty years later, circumstances bring together these two men who have lived very different lives indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one has been rattling around in my head for a long time now and I'm so excited to finally be posting it! Thanks to laura_mayfair for betaing and afrakaday for answering some legal questions, and as always, the members of bsg_checkin for their support.

"Lieutenant Tigh." Sherman thrust his phone at Saul, like a sideline reporter's microphone. "You're twenty-five and your Viper-piloting skills have just sent the toasters packing. What are you going to do now?" 

Saul's face split into a grin. "Well, I think Wonder World's still closed, but this bar in Caprica City looks nice this time of year." 

"That it does." Sherman snapped his phone closed and looked around the room. "What'll it be?" 

Saul skimmed the menu, but he also got his best friend's double meaning. He was scanning the bar, too. 

"He looks lonely," the medic went on. "Your type, too." 

He was Saul's type—dark wavy hair, glasses. Jeans hugged his ass nicely, and he was leaning against the bar, looking around the room.

"I'm gonna go talk to him," Saul said, smoothing his hair. "See if he's interested."

Sherman lit a cigarette. "Knock yourself out. Be sure to mention the medal."

Saul rolled his eyes, but he puffed out his chest as he swaggered over. He was wearing his duty blues, but he had the medal around his neck and he still had the acceptance letter in his pocket. 

He stepped up to the bar, checking out the guy out of the corner of his eye. Civilian, definitely. Which meant he was a student or in an essential service field. 

He surprised Saul by speaking first. "Thank you for your service," he said. That was neutral enough, though. It was two weeks after armistice. The uniform still got a lot of attention. 

Saul beamed. "It's been an honor." He paused. "Would you like to dance…?" 

"Bill. I'm Bill." A shy smile. "And sure." 

Saul could barely contain his glee as he took Bill's hand and led him out onto the floor. Sherman was watching, mouth open. Yeah, Cottle, Saul thought. This is how you do it.

"You see much action, Lieutenant?" Bill asked.

"Yeah, some." Saul was proud of himself for not doing anything to call attention to the medal. It was just hanging there, around his neck, minding its own business. 

"Got any plans now that you're free?" 

"Actually…" He had to do this good. It was his first time with this material. "I'm not free. I want to go career. And I just got accepted to the Fleet Academy. Gonna be an officer."

"Aren't you an officer?" Bill spun him. 

"Technically, I'm a Brevet Lieutenant. Didn't have the formal training, but I'm gonna get it now." He could hardly contain his pride. He'd worked his ass off for this, ever since his XO had told him he could still make it in. "What about you?" He gave Bill the eyes. Nobody could resist the eyes.

"I'm in law school. First year."

"Ah." Saul wasn't quite sure what to say now. That was a lot of education going up against his GED. "How's that going for you?"

"Good, it's going good. My dad's a lawyer. Always wanted to follow in his footsteps." 

Saul smiled. "Family business, that's good." 

"What about your family?" 

"Oh." Saul paused. "They're nothing. I mean, there's no family business. Aerilon, I'm from Aerilon." He smiled. Bill smiled back. 

"I've never been to Aerilon."

"Oh, well, then, I'll take you." 

Bill laughed. Good. He had a cute laugh. 

The song they'd been dancing to ended. 

"You know what?" Saul said. "Let me buy you a drink." 

Bill smiled. "I would really—" 

"Sorry to keep you waiting!" A blonde came out of nowhere and grabbed Bill's arm. "Was it long?" She kissed him on the cheek. Bill looked slightly alarmed, almost like he wanted to say something, but Saul had already retreated. 

There was a whole bar, hell, a whole city full of people and his medal looked damn impressive. 

**

Reveille jerked Saul out of his dream, and he sat up, sighing. Mornings got harder after forty years on the job, and he rarely remembered his dreams. 

He kicked the covers off and slid of bed. He was wide awake the second his bare feet hit the floor. Sustenance. He needed sustenance.

Saul yanked open the door of the mini-fridge by his desk. Three bottles left. How long could he last with three bottles? He pulled one out. He needed the boost this morning. 

He set the bottle down on his desk and stared at it.

Three bottles of mango soda left, probably in the whole universe. Saul unscrewed the cap, relishing the fresh hiss.

Was it better to drink the whole thing at once to preserve the fizz, or drink it slow to preserve the flavor? 

He took a generous swig and held it in his mouth before swallowing. Preserve the flavor, definitely. He screwed the cap back on as tight as he could and popped the bottle back in the fridge. He had maybe three weeks' left. Then he'd be in trouble.

The hatch open. Saul spun, knowing only one person could enter without knocking. 

"I could've been naked, you know," he said to Sherman. 

"I've seen you naked. I'm your doctor." His best friend raised an eyebrow. "Though would it kill you to sleep with a shirt on?"

"Nah." Saul scratched his chest. "I get hot." He cocked his head. "You're back. That mean you finished your rounds in the fleet?" 

"Yeah. Got a report for you to review. Took a census of doctors, nurses, anybody who worked with medical equipment. We have some good facilities on _Rising Star_. Operating theater, X-ray, MRI." Sherman could see Saul's eyes start to glaze over. "I'll take care of it. Just thought you should see." He dropped a heavy envelope onto Saul's desk.

"That's the report?" Saul picked it up. "Why didn't you do it online?" 

Sherman grinned. "I did. That's a souvenir courtesy of _Rising Star_ 's gift shop."

Saul opened the envelope. "Oho. These are good." 

The new issue of _Satyr_ peeked out of the envelope, promising a rundown of the boys of Caprica Beach. Saul's beloved _Aviation Hobbyist_ was in there, too. 

"Fat lot this'll do," Saul said, flipping through it. "Won't get to retire, won't get my bird." 

"Still, I figured it'd give you something to do. You gotta unwind sometime, Tigh. And before you asked, I checked the soda aisle. They don't have your brand." 

Saul made a face. "Almost enough to make me go back on the sauce." 

"No, it's not." Sherman's expression was set. "Fought that battle thirty-five years ago and I'm not gonna let you slip now."

Saul nodded. "You're right. I'll get through it."

"Besides." Sherman patted him roughly on the shoulder. "I was going to try to get you off the soda, too. Way too much sodium for you."

Saul rolled his eyes. This was what happened when your doctor was your best friend. 

**

"The passenger manifests are up."

Lee stared at Dee without quite seeing her. 

"I took the liberty of running your name." She stepped into the duty locker and sat down on Flattop's rack. "Your father is alive." 

Lee rubbed his eyes. "I don't care. I don't want to see him." 

"He'll figure out you're alive sooner or later. What are you going to say to him when he realizes you didn't contact him?" 

Lee sat up. "I really don't care. As far as I'm concerned, he's already dead. He died with my brother. He's a stranger." 

Dee frowned. "Lee, you know I didn't get along with my father, but if I could see him now…. Well, I'd give anything for that to be possible." 

"I'm sorry." He got up and went over to her. "I appreciate your looking. I'll think about it." He squeezed her hand. "I'd need some moral support, though."

Just then, Gaeta's voice came over the PA system. "Pass the word, Apollo to CO's quarters, Apollo to CO's quarters."

Lee stuck his hands in his pockets. "Guess I'm going to work." 

**

"Good morning, sir." Lee saluted as he entered Tigh's quarters.

"No need for that." Tigh gave him a dismissive wave. "Sit down, I want to talk about today. I want you to go over to the _Astral Queen_ and supervise the recruitment of the prisoners there. I've met with the President and she has some concerns about their treatment. Dee and Cally are coming with you, and so is the President's aide. Cally knows the equipment they'll using, so she can see if the volunteers are a good fit." 

Lee nodded. He'd met Roslin on the day of the attacks when he'd helped her ship escape the Cylons. She would be a good leader for the civilians, but she seemed not to have a head for military matters. "Yes, sir. We'll ask for volunteers, and impress upon them the importance of the work, but we certainly won't force anyone to do anything they don't want to do."

"Good." Tigh smiled. "Knew I could trust you." He paused. "Something on your mind, kid?"

Lee frowned. Tigh had been like a father to him in the absence of his own. If anyone would understand….

"Sir, I got a hit on my name when they ran it against the civilian manifests. My father is alive." 

"Do you think you're going to want to see him?" 

Lee shook his head. "I can't imagine so, sir. I'm still a butcher, and he still defends criminals." 

"Well, think about it." Tigh's hand went to the carafe of water on his desk. "Drink?"

"No thank you, sir, I'll manage." He stood. "I should be heading for _Astral Queen_." 

**

Bill shifted in his seat and looked out the window for probably the thousandth time. The scenery hadn't changed—just the blackness of space and the other ships in the fleet. He'd been trying to read, and he had plenty of books on his e-reader, but how long would that last him? The rest of his life? 

How long would the passengers on the short-term civilian transport shuttles be forced to stay in their seats? Would passage be allowed to one of the luxury liners, like _Cloud Nine_? Bill was starting to wish he'd had the foresight to get a stateroom on another ship like he'd contemplated, but it seemed silly for a trip from Tauron, where he'd been doing some pro-bono work, back to Caprica where he was supposed to meet a client. 

He wondered if there was something he should do. Get in touch with Secretary Roslin? Who was in charge of that battlestar?

"William Adama?"

He looked up. Two Colonial Marines stood in the aisle beside his seat. His two seatmates looked at him in confusion.

Bill pushed his glasses up. "Yes."

"Come with us, sir."

"And why should I?"

"Commander Tigh would like to talk to you." 

"Did he say why?" 

"No, sir," the other Marine said. "Not our business, sir." 

Bill rolled his eyes. 

"He says it's a matter of national security, sir, and that it's classified," she went on.

Bill thought for a moment. At least it would be a chance to get off this ship. 

"All right." He got up and shoved his tablet into his briefcase. 

"Anything in the overhead, sir?" 

"Yes, one bag." Bill paused in stepping over his companions' legs. "Will I be staying a while?" 

"Don't know, sir. The skipper just said to bring all your stuff."

"All right, then I have one checked suitcase in the hold." 

The Marine slung Bill's carryon over her shoulder. Her partner went to speak to the cabin crew, who were all staring. 

Bill checked his briefcase to make sure he had anything and draped his suit jacket over his arm. 

Well, he'd been wanting to meet the commander.

**

Saul was waiting on the hangar deck when Adama's Raptor came to a stop. As soon as the hatch opened, he could hear an unfamiliar voice saying, "Isn't there anyplace I can freshen up?" 

Adama did look somewhat worse for the wear. His dark hair was rumpled and he had several days' growth of beard. Saul had to admit he hadn't thought about what life might be like for those on the shuttles, who were confined to the narrow rows of seats. Saul so rarely flew commercial that his memories of the conditions were foggy, but Adama looked miserable in his rumpled suit. 

But there was no time for that.

"Mr. Adama! Glad you could join us." Saul offered him a hand down from the Raptor. "I'm Saul Tigh, commander of this ship. I've heard a lot about you from your son."

Adama's expression clouded. "My son? Lee… you're Lee's commanding officer? He's alive?"

Saul had forgotten he might not have known this. "Yes. And he's the reason I called you over. We have a situation." 

There was no time for pleasantries. Saul strode toward the stairs; Adama was forced to follow if he wanted to hear more. 

"What kind of situation?" 

"You know the _Astral Queen_ is in this fleet?" 

"Should I know that ship?"

"It's a prison transport ship. We've asked them to help us harvest the ice from that planet. We can use that for water." He noticed Adama's face brighten at the prospect of water. The civvies must be going nuts. "Yeah… want that, don't you? Well, it seems like the prisoners have a problem with helping out their fellow citizens." 

"Are they helping out their fellow citizens or are they being conscripted?" 

Saul let out a dry laugh. He sounded like Roslin. "We asked for volunteers. None came forward. They've staged a mutiny against the guards. They've taken over the ship and they're holding some of my men and the President's aide hostage. Including Lee."

Adama missed a step. "What do you need me for?"

Saul turned toward CIC. "I think you might be able to get through to the ringleader of the operation."

"How so?"

Saul stepped through the hatch. "It's Tom Zarek."


	2. Chapter 2

Tom? Bill stopped dead in his tracks as Tigh kept walking. It seemed like a wild coincidence, especially on top of Lee being alive. _Tom_ was alive?

He supposed he should have expected that. They'd been on their ways to meet each other, so it did make sense, though he was impressed a ship full of prisoners had made it this far, especially with a commander like Tigh in charge. 

"And you want me to help with the hostage negotiations?" he asked, taking a few quick steps to catch up with the taller man.

"That would nice, yeah." Tigh's arms went across his chest, on the defensive. Despite needing Bill's help, he was acting like it was a great inconvenience to make time for him. 

"What are you going to do with Tom after I do that?" 

"That's none of your business."

Bill pushed his glasses up. "Actually, it's _all_ of my business, Commander. I have to act in the best interests of my client. That may not be throwing him to the wolves."

Tigh raised his eyebrows, looking stumped, and Bill couldn't help but feel a little satisfied. 

"Fine," Tigh said, coming to a halt, "if he lets the hostages go without injury, I won't have him brought up on charges. This time." 

Bill didn't rise to the bait on that one. "I'll talk to him."

**

Bill had worn bulletproof vests under his suit jacket before, when he'd been working some tough cases, but he didn't like the implication here. 

"It's for your safety, sir," the pilot told him. "Your client or not, there are a lot of guys over there with itchy trigger fingers. We can't have you getting hit."

Bill stared at her skeptically, but he allowed her to show him how to do it up. "Thank you," he said. 

"Don't mention it." She stepped back, surveying the assembled soldiers. "Okay, everybody takes the next bus. He and I go alone." 

"Alone?" Bill hadn't been expecting this after her earlier statement. "Don't we need more protection, if Tom's men have 'itchy trigger fingers,' as you put it?" 

The lieutenant patted her sidearm. "This is all the protection we need. Besides, they'll be right behind us if there's any trouble." 

"There won't be any trouble." Bill stepped onto the gangplank. "I'll talk to my client and get this all sorted out." 

As they approached _Astral Queen_ , Bill thought back to the other times he'd flown to Tom's rescue on short notice. 

There was the first time, when he'd been a legal aid lawyer, not long out of school. Tom had joined a protest at a government building on Caprica. Ordinarily, it was the sort of thing that would have resulted in the crowd being dispersed, with only the leaders maybe held overnight. But, in the post-war atmosphere of heightened tensions, Tom had been arrested, and Bill called in, along with most of his office, to handle the caseload. For Bill, it was what passed for routine, good practice for bigger cases later. He could see that it was practice for Tom, too.

"You're Tauron," Tom had said when Bill had stepped into the interrogation room with him. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah. I mean, I was born here on Caprica, but—" 

The young man, just a scant few years his junior cocked his head. "But you're Tauron." 

Bill nodded. 

"What made you decide to become a lawyer?" 

Bill frowned. "We're supposed to be talking about your options." 

"And I want to know this before I accept your services."

Bill bristled. "You can't pick. You couldn't afford a lawyer, so here I am. If you don't want me, you'll have to defend yourself."

"All right, then. Convince me why I shouldn't do that." 

Bill sighed and sat down next to Tom on the bunk. "Because I have a law license and you don't." 

"And yet you're supposed to defend me when the Caprican government is paying you." 

"I'm trying to help people. Everyone deserves justice. My dad's a lawyer, and he always said we needed to give people a voice." 

Tom smirked. "That's nice. I'll pretend you mean that and that this job isn't just a stepping stone on your way to partner in a high-roller firm." 

Bill opened his briefcase. "Listen, when I'm partner in a high-roller firm, I'll remember you." 

Tom hadn't let him get that far. The call had come three years later in the middle of the night, when Bill was doing grunt work at a middle-of-the-road firm. He'd caught a redeye to Sagittaron. The charges were bigger, but Tom could actually afford to pay him this time. 

That had started their uneasy partnership. Bill had done his best by Tom, using all the tricks he'd learned from his father to get him off, as the charges got increasingly more violent.

The morning of the Labor Ministry bombing, Bill remember standing in front of the television news, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, wondering if he hadn't been able to weasel Tom out of his last run-in with the law, maybe those people would still be alive.

It was the first and last time he let himself think like that. It was also the first time he knew he would lose a trial, that his client was without a doubt guilty. It had also been his first high-profile case, the one that had gotten him the others. 

Because that was what Tom had taught him. Everyone deserved to have a voice, and Bill was the only one equipped to give it to them. 

"I'll go in to talk to him myself," Bill said, once they'd docked. "You can stay here." 

Something passed over her face, but she kept it to herself. "Okay," she said mildly. "You go on." 

When Bill got out of the Raptor, one of Tom's men was waiting to escort him. 

The halls of the ship were full of former prisoners, all looking, as Lieutenant Thrace had predicted, like they had itchy trigger fingers. Tom had taken up residence in the guards' control room. Bill wondered where Lee was. 

"Bill!" Tom stood, extending his hand. "So glad you could make it. Give us the room, gentlemen." The men left, one-by-one. 

Tom smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Have a seat, Bill. Can I congratulate you on being alive?"

Bill smirked. "I was coming to see you, so I guess I have you to thank." He sat down across from Tom. "What's going on here?"

"Seizing an opportunity. Society has collapsed, Bill. There's a chance to keep it from being rebuilt under Caprican domination." 

"Is that what you wanted?" 

Tom shrugged. "I'd have preferred it come without a nuclear holocaust, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth." 

"You realize the military has all its guns pointed at you, right? There's a shuttle full of Marines on their way to storm this ship." 

"I had realized that." Tom had that look on his face that had always annoyed Bill, even back during that first case that implied that, on some level, he thought Bill's law degree meant nothing.

"I'm supposed to talk you down," Bill said. "They came and found me for this." He paused. "Where's my son, Tom?" 

"In a holding cell. I thought it would be nice to let Tigh's men see the other side of the bars for once." 

"If you don't let them go, we're all going to die." 

"So?" Tom cocked his head, the same way he always had when Bill asked what he thought was a stupid question. "I'm ready for them. If they want to come in here and kill us all, then history will remember that."

"What history? If you don't stop Tigh, humanity will lose lives it needs. Our priority should be the survival of our species." 

Tom frowned pensively. "You know, Bill, sometimes I think they dumped their agenda into you at Caprica U, and sometimes I think you came out okay." 

Bill smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment." 

"What do you advise? In your legal opinion?" 

Bill shrugged. "I think some of your demands are reasonable. Not Roslin's resignation. Set an election date, and a close one, but we need a President, even if she's just a figurehead until we get a real one." 

Tom nodded. "I'm listening."

"Parole. Got to get your guys out of here and legally. You were on your way to a hearing, and I'm sure there's a judge somewhere in the fleet." 

"What about the water recovery operations?" 

"We need the water. Aren't you thirsty?" 

Tom stood. "I have to hand it to you, Bill. You make me think we actually have a chance." 

Bill sat back, feeling satisfied. "Only failed to get you off once, right?" 

Tom let out a bark of laughter. "Be careful who you say that around." 

"Seriously," said Bill. "You've got a chance to do something real here. The playing field just got a lot smaller." 

"And who was that talking? The CU law degree or the Ha'la'tha money that paid for it?" 

"Your legal counsel," Bill said, "who works in your best interests." 

"Go back and tell him, then." He nodded to the wireless hookup. "Give Commander Tigh my demands. Maybe they'll stop jamming our transmissions if you're on the other end of the line." 

Bill supposed errand boy was part of the hostage negotiation duties. 

"So, did you get him to release the hostages?" Tigh asked. Bill supposed there was no time for pleasantries. 

"He wants elections, and for the men to be offered a chance at parole." 

Tigh swore. 

"They _were_ eligible, Commander." 

"I know that," Tigh spat. "You weren't supposed to come back with demands. You were supposed to talk him down." 

"As I recall, I said I would work in the best interest of my client," Bill grit out. "I think he has a point. How long was Laura Roslin planning to stay in office?"

"This is an emergency situation. Completely unprecedented." 

"And we still have the Articles, Commander. Elections in seven months. Have her commit to it. We stay on the schedule dictated by President Adar's term." 

Tigh was silent. Bill imagined him conferring with somebody, probably Roslin.

He came back on the line. "What about the hostages?" 

"They're all safe." 

There was another long pause. Bill glanced over at Tom. 

"All right. Tell him he's got his deal. We'll work on the parole if they'll help with the water." 

"Well," Tom said, when Bill had put the headset down. "I have to hand it to you. Can I ask you to join me?"

"In what?" 

"In whatever comes next." 

"Well, you are my client." Bill tucked his briefcase back under his arm. He wasn't sure what was ahead of him—he didn't fancy going back to his seat on the shuttle. Maybe if he stuck with Tom, he'd get to stretch his legs occasionally.

"I'll be in touch." Tom smiled. "We'll see what we can do when we re-form the government." 

Bill was on his way back to his shuttle when he spotted Lee, walking with a female shipmate. Lee saw him at the same time and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Dad?" he whispered. 

Bill smiled and opened his arms. "Lee. I'm so glad you're okay."

Lee took a hesitant step forward, but then stopped. "You're here because of him, aren't you? You were helping him?" 

Bill dropped his arms. "Commander Tigh asked me to talk to Tom." 

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the spotlight. Going to take credit for freeing the hostages?" 

"No, Lee, I was just doing what I was asked to do. I was doing my job. And we need to talk." 

Lee pushed past him, following the rest of _Galactica_ 's crew. "No. We're done talking." 

Bill watched him go, heart in his throat. After all this time, all they'd been through, he'd thought maybe they would be able to talk about Zak…


End file.
